


For two drops of serenity

by Rapace



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Aliens, Angst, BioWare, Canon accurate, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Minor Shepard/Garrus Vakarian, POV Alternating, POV Original Character, POV Third Person, Renegade Commander Shepard, Serious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:29:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5101208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rapace/pseuds/Rapace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blinded by her own personal goals, Ravanor Phoebe ends up being accidentally recruited by Commander Shepard. But the next day, when she wakes up in the medbay, her eyes meet those of the Professor Solus ; and she knows he's going to be the first obstacle of her long-awaited quest for honor and justice. OC/Mordin Solus, takes place from ME2 to ME3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_For what it was worth, leaving Invictus and her parents behind was not much of a sacrifice. She had gained from them a taste for adventure, discoveries, and fist-fighting. She had travelled throughout the system before, usually embarking aboard trading ships, but this time, it would be different. Aiming for outer galaxies, she departed from her home, bidding farewell to the only family she had. It was time to rectify decades of injustice._

**PROLOGUE**

* * *

 

Three digits caressed her shoulder, as gentle eyes scouted her whole figure like the true gaze of a _mother_ would ; with care, attention, and worry, but mostly with love, lots of love.

“Promise me you'll be careful, my little one.” The mother frowned. Soon enough, her only child would be gone. Away from this region, this planet, and this galaxy.

“I will.” The daughter promised, holding her mother's hand in return, with a tight and reassuring grip. “I will change the wrong for the right, once and for all, mama.” She sighed, stepping forward and hugging her mother dearly, one last time. There was no one in the universe she loved more than her mother, and no one she would speak to with the same tenderness and care. Even by Invictus' standards, she was seen as a _ruthless_ _bastard_. And the spirits forbid if anyone came to harm her parents. It would end in a _bloodbath_.

“I should go now, before papa wakes up.” She added, grabbing her backpack and strapping it to her shoulder. “Don't send me any messages for now. I'll have you on vidcom as soon as I can.” She turned back, taking small but assured steps towards the door. No turning back. Chickening out wasn't an option anymore ; and she had never intended to step back from her _mission_ , anyway.

“Bye, mama.”

The Turian daughter closed the door behind her, adjusting her bag on her back. With some luck, she would arrive in Tuchanka before the end of the week. 


	2. First light

_One hit. Two hits. A billion hits. Nothing would stop her, ever. She was determined to succeed. Her family's honor depended on it. When the ship would hit the landing zone, her mission would begin._

**FIRST LIGHT**  

* * *

 

Though the trip had been rather short and pleasant - by _her_ standards, at least, Phoebe was still deeply relieved to hear the ship boarding at the station, releasing blots of dust as it hit the dry ground of Tuchanka. She didn't _like_ traveling. She'd become homesick quite quickly ; she'd start missing her parents, and the influence of her _reputation_ as a hotheaded little thug would decrease the farther away she traveled from Invictus.

Quickly, she jumped off the front door, summoning her omni-tool and signing off her registration to the trading ship's passenger list. Immediately, the first thing she noticed was the _smell_. It stunk of tar and burnt steel, a mix between the stench of long forgotten krogan sewers, full of dirt, unclean water and bodily dejections, and the nose-wrinkling reek of a burning ship, or vehicle of any sort. That, she knew, would be a scent she'd remember for a long time.

It followed her even when she walked further down into the first krogan structure she found ; it seemed slightly less prominent now, most likely because of some vents here and there into the building. But this stench wasn't the only thing that walked in her shadow, though this new presence didn't reek as much, but she could feel _eyes_ , everywhere, gazing down at her thin figure like a varren would eye a prey hungrily. Krogans surrounding her, scouting her every movements. When she went through the first corridor into the building, she heard three of them lowering their voices and discreetly throwing glances at her. When she turned to the right, another krogan wrinkled his nose and spat at her feet. This rude and coarse act made her raise her eyes immediately. She locked her golden pupils right into the Krogan's crimson orbs, and her fist, now clenched tightly, trembled as she wondered how _bad_ the repercussions would be if she were to _kill_ someone not even two minutes into her visit to an enemy planet. This thought quickly dissipated, and Phoebe moved her burning gaze away from this krogan, resolving to turn her back and stop minding his presence, or else she would _really_ end up blasting him with her biotics.

A beam of light went through a hole in the concrete ceiling, lighting up her path towards the exit. The stench had seemingly toned down, though Phoebe could still smell the bitter scent of burnt tar when she exited the building again. More krogans would surround her. Most would turn their heads immediately at the sight of her, clenching their teeth, calling their friends to look at the peculiar visitor. Perhaps even plot her murder in the next twenty minutes. She didn't feel welcomed at all, and that was a _certainty_. But of course. She didn't expect anything else ; nor could she predict her guide would chicken out at the last second and leave her alone in this hellhole. Turians and Krogans had the worst history of rivalry in the whole Milky Way. And, sometimes, she could understand why her native brothers and sisters hated those rude bastards, with their stupid laws and their stupid _codes_. Today, she would ensure that her family's name would not be betrayed again in favor of those rules.

“ _Leave_.” A loud, low-pitched voice echoed. Phoebe didn't even have time to turn back and see who was talking to her before a huge hand gripped her shoulder and threw her aside. She stood firmly on her feet, avoiding falling down. Probably one of the hugest, largest krogans she'd ever seen stood in front of her, barring her path.

“I am here- on a _business_ visit.” She bitterly replied, trying her best to cool down and avoid going on a killing spree right away. This could end in a bloodbath, for all she knew. But she was ready to defend herself - and she didn't plan on losing, at all. For now though, it was best to remain _calm_ and _collected_.

“I said, leave. _Filth_.” The huge krogan immediately answered back, cracking his knuckles and walking closer to her. So close, one step further again, and soon his chest would almost touch hers, his face looking down at her, and his reeking breath almost giving her nausea, _again_.

She didn't break eye contact. Her mouth trembled, and signs of her biotic charges started to glow from her digits ; but, still, still she tried her very best to remain calm. Breathe. Focus on the mission. Focus on her goals. Nothing. Else. Mattered.

“And I said, I am here on-” A punch right into her jaw cut her mid-sentence. She crumbled on the ground, the blow being too hard to roll with. She brought a hand to her face, touching her plated cheek ; it would soon swell up, for sure. If she were to start taking time to analyze the whole situation, nothing was _logical_. Krogans were brutal, yes, but they wouldn't attack someone on sight, even a Turian, especially if said Turian told them the reason of her visit - _business_. The pieces didn't _add_ _up_.

Though she wanted to, Phoebe didn't have time to react. As soon as the first punch hit her face, a panacea of blows followed ; kicks, headbutts, slaps, and more and more punches. She tried to sit up and throw a biotic shot, but she was overwhelmed, and greatly outnumbered, of course. After a few seconds, at least six or seven Krogans were at her throat, beating her up mercilessly.

“Enough, boys. We're done here.” An echo came to her ears, and after what seemed to have been an eternity, the beat up stopped. Her vision was blurry and blood would pour from her plated lips. She felt rough hands lifting her up like a bag of meat, thrown over some Krogan's shoulder. She blinked a few times and saw the ground moving rapidly ; said Krogan was walking away with her, followed by his mates. They were bantering and laughing like if nothing happened. They entered the building she came from, and after a few minutes, a blinding light pierced her vision again. The sun was horribly hot and bright today - if she hadn't been half-dead, she'd even wonder if it was like that everyday on Tuchanka. But right now, this was the very last of her concerns.

Her body was soon moved again as the Krogan who carried her gripped her again, and threw her violently onto what seemed to be a steeled deck. She heard a door closing immediately after, followed by the distinct sound of an engine being started up. _Great_. After using her as a punching-ball, they had apparently decided to ship her away to who-knows-which galaxy.

Quite rapidly, the ship started and flew off Tuchanka. She could feel the roars of the engine under her stomach, shaking her up and down on what she assumed to be the floor of the cargo trunk of the ship. Pained groans would escape her mouth as she tried to sit up, but found herself unable to move a single muscle without sending waves of striking pain into her whole body.

This mission was off to a _good_ start.


	3. Blow her up

“ _I am important”, she always reassured herself. What else could matter, besides her and her parents? Others, they were nothing but filth. She had never wished to become a thug. All she wanted was to be a fucking badass. So far, half of Invictus saw her as a crazy hyperactive bitch, and nothing more. But she aimed for the stars, she always would._

**BLOW HER UP**

* * *

 

“Commander. 'Morning.” Jack said, stretching out her arms and yawning in the least elegant way possible. She sat down, resting her arms behind the back of the chair.

“Jack.” Moirae replied, nodding lightly and taking a sip of her hot, black coffee, and sitting in front of the bald soldier. It had been a tiresome night, with all these files and these tracks given to her by the Illusive Man ; she had had to analyze every single one of them, file out reports, and update the galaxy map with what she had found recently. Overall, the mission was going pretty smoothly, though Moirae could scarcely hide her _mistrust_ towards Cerberus anymore. She didn't _care_ , nor did she mind having the Illusive Man spying on her and telling her what to do. In the end, he was giving her resources and tracks to work with, and it was all she needed. But she didn't trust him one bit. She _never_ would.

Garrus entered the room. He sat at the table with the Commander and the rest of the crew. It had been only a few weeks since Moirae had rescued him and recruited professor Solus from Omega ; they seemed to have adapted pretty well to the new Normandy. Especially Mordin ; how many months had it been since he had embarked aboard a ship? Life among the sick, smelling death and sorrow and distress everyday, waking up to more corpses on his hands and no one to help those left, no one but _him_. It wasn't something everyone could handle, but Mordin did it, and Moirae _respected_ him immensely for that.

“Commander!” A voice shrieked across the whole crew deck, followed by sounds of heel clattering against the floor. “Commander... Commander Shepard!” The slim silhouette of a seemingly panicked Kelly Chambers appeared from behind a wall. She was holding a report file in her hand.

“Calm down, Kelly.” Moirae frowned, turning to face her. “What's the matter?”

“Ma'am! I, Joker... And the others, we saw a ship... It appeared on our radar, it was sending warning signals and we recorded audio messages... I think its passengers are calling for help, it is possible that the ship is going to _crash_. We located it nearby, around Korlus...” The young yeoman announced under heavy breath, bringing a hand to her stomach and handing the report file to Moirae. What she could see here was exactly what it seemed to be ; a distress call. The Commander didn't think it twice and rushed to the Combat Information Center, followed by the rest of her crew. If there was a chance to save this ship, she had to take it ; for all she knew, it could've been full of children, civilians or sick people - but what mattered right now, is that it was full of _people_ in _distress_

“Ma'am, you might want to hear the audio message the ship transmitted to us.” Kelly added. Moirae nodded positively, as they all exited the elevator to enter the CIC. “Joker, play the message.” Moirae commanded, opening the galaxy map and reading the rest of Kelly's report.

_\- This is Legionnaire Urdmont, calling out for help- if you receive this call, please respond- This is Legionnaire Urdmont, I repeat, calling from the pilot cabin, please respond- The BS-4788 frigate is badly damaged, we are facing imminent crashing- Fuck, don't stay here Simon, get the hell out of here! Go to the bay and leave! You have to warn Officer Santiago- I repeat, this is Legionnaire Ur- Oh god no- The sicko has escaped the bay! Oh god I can hear her coming to the cabin! Simon, is that you?! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck! Where's my gun?! I'm going to blow her up, I'm going to- ARGH-_

_End of transmission._

Although the message was rather short, the crew remained speechless. Whatever or whoever was causing this ship to crash had seemingly decimated its entire crew as well. Kelly looked rather anxious at this whole situation, and Moirae frowned. What there even anyone left to save on this ship? The creature had apparently reached the pilot cabin already. Given by the call-giver's title, the ship was probably a military frigate with mostly armed men and women on its board - so it was possible they put up a fight and managed to survive this long. It was now up to the Normandy crew to make sure they could escape this ship-turned-hellhole safe and sound.

“Officer _Santiago_?” A loud and hoarse voice questioned. Zaeed emerged from the elevator, crossing his arms and frowning. Oh, _crap_. Now Moirae remembered that name ; her mind filled itself with the memory of Zaeed throwing a temper tantrum and breaking a glass on the floor of the engineering bay just because of _this_ name. The veteran soldier hammered the floor with his combat boots, accompanying each of his steps with a 'fuck', a groan or a 'shit'. He seemed pissed off, to say the least, and Moirae feared that it would, again, drive his mind off their original mission.

“This absolute bastard...” He muttered, clenching his teeth. Jack raised an eyebrow, watching Zaeed walk in circles like a mad bull.

“Safe to assume the old man knows this guy.” Jack commented, slightly amused by the situation. Shepard sighed. “Zaeed, does that mean this ship is working under Santiago's command?” She asked.

“Damn fucking right they do. BS-4788 stands for Blue Suns-4788 - the fucking ship license number.” He replied, cracking his knuckles. Yes, it _did_ make sense. What didn't make sense, however, was what happened aboard this ship. It was most likely that someone had infiltrated it - perhaps a spy, an assassin, anyone, sent by an enemy of the Blue Suns. But whatever, or whoever, this could be, and regardless of the fact that the BS-4788 was a Blue Suns ship, this whole affair was still a mess and was definitely worth investigating.

“Garrus, Zaeed, go grab your gear. Joker, what's our ETA?” Moirae asserted. Said crew members rushed to the elevator right away, and the others shortly followed. Kelly started typing vehemently on her screen, visibly concentrated. “Fifteen minutes, Commander.” Joker responded. “Ten, if we hurry.” EDI added, getting a discreet 'shut up' from the pilot.

As soon as those words were said, the Normandy flew across the Imir System. Initially, the radar didn't pick up any more signals from the lost ship - but after a few seconds, it started beeping furiously again. Moirae was confident they were getting nearer to its location. She walked to the shuttle and waited for her squad members to arrived before leaving the Normandy. It was always a moment she _liked_ \- departing from the ship, losing herself into the immensity of the Universe, unshielded. In this case, the mission could prove to be dangerous. It was even more... _exciting_ , somehow.

“Commander! It's right here - It's... It's not moving...” Kelly informed Moirae. The lost ship had reappeared clearly on the map. It was, indeed, completely immobile, though the engines were seemingly still functional and working. Two things could be concluded from here - it was either a trap, either everyone was dead, and the intruder had taken commands of the ship.

Wary, Shepard boarded the shuttle at the ship's cargo bay - it was wide open, probably because the passengers had escaped hastily aboard escape pods and shuttles. “Helmets.” The young Commander indicated, as she stood up and put on her own breather-helmet. Garrus and Zaeed followed her. As the door of the shuttle opened, Moirae raised up her arms, holding her sniper rifle firmly between her fingers. She scouted every inches of the bay, but there was virtually nothing, and no one. Furniture, gear, armors and weapons were broken and scattered over the floor, however. Three corpses could be found as well - all three of them were Blue Suns mercs. Moirae knelt down, inspecting their wounds - they were mostly bruises, probably caused by punches or strong shocks against walls or crates. As they were about to take the elevator, Garrus stopped them and made a sign towards a small door. “Better check this room too.” He murmured ; Moirae acquiesced and went to bypass the security, only to find the door already unlocked and open.

A peculiar sight caught their eyes as they entered this new room. It was apparently a regular part of the cargo bay, probably used to stock goods and weapons. But literally everything was torn apart. The walls were covered in sludge, ashes and blood, and about a dozen Blue Suns mercenaries were lying, lifeless, on the floor.

“Well, I suppose that's where our intruder started his killing spree.” Garrus cocked a plated brow, his eyes hovering over the whole room with wariness. “The audio message mentioned someone who had 'escaped the bay'. I suppose they were talking about this room.” Moirae added, blinking a few times, slightly thoughtful. Though there was much more blood in this room than in the cargo bay's main board, it was still rather dense. Again, no big wounds on the corpses, mostly bruises.

“Our intruder is either a ghost, or a very good brawler.” Garrus added as the squad exited the room, and took the elevator. It was still functioning well, and wasn't lined with blood, this time.

Moirae resolved to investigate the pilot cabin before anything else. The ship was immobile - for now, but if someone tried to pilot it or crash it on Korlus, they would obviously do it from there. She had little hope to find any living survivors now.

Once again, she pointed her rifle in front of her, cautiously taking small steps outside of the elevator, closely followed by Zaeed and Garrus. This ship's combat center was inexistent. They had only a cabin and a screen room, which was probably occupied by engineers before the intruder went on his killing spree. Moirae walked slowly towards the door of the cabin.

“Locked. Not surprising.” She commented under her breath, summoning her omni-tool and bypassing the security as discreetly as she could. That was it. The core of this small, unplanned mission resided here. Either the cabin would be empty, either it _wouldn't_. In both cases... It wasn't reassuring at all.

As soon as the door slided and opened, all three of them stood steady on their feet, pointing their gun nervously in front of them.

 _Nothing_.

The consoles were a little damaged, and a single body was sitting, dead, on the pilot's chair. Moirae approached him. It was a human man, wearing a Blue Suns armor, sitting in front of the radio commands. His arms were dangling on his sides, and his empty pupils were staring, terrified, at the ceiling. A gun was lying on the floor, under the chair. The man had a single wound ; a big, bloated, crimson-red mark on his right temple - He had, evidently, been _punched_ to death.

“Legionnaire Urdmont.” Moirae concluded.

The silence of the empty, dead ship was abruptly broken by a groan. Immediately, the three soldiers held their weapons firmly again - but there was no one, nothing in front of them. Zaeed lowered his gaze, only to meet that of a body on the floor. Except this body was _breathing_.

The bounty hunter elbowed Moirae, and they all pointed their guns at the new face. As the Commander knelt down next to them, she noticed they weren't _human_. They weren't wearing a Blue Suns uniform either. It was a _Turian_ , a female Turian. Wide curvy hips, plated face, three digits on each hands ; no doubt here. No wonder they hadn't noticed her before. She was curled up against a console, and her plates, along with her clothes, were pitch black. She seemed to have a rather small build for a Turian. She was wearing a simple light armor but it was mostly torn apart, covered in blood and smudges. Her irises went out of focus for a second, before rapidly shifting back to look at Shepard's face. They were barely still open, and the female obviously struggled to even stay _conscious_. It didn't last long.

“G... Get me outta... here...” Was the only sentence she managed to mutter before passing out. Moirae pressed two fingers against her neck ; she was still breathing. Judging by her clothes and body in general, she had been severely beaten up. She had two gun wounds as well ; one on her thigh and one on her shoulder, this one smaller than the previous one.

The Commander stood up again, stretching her arms, and letting out a sigh.

“You heard the lady. Help me carry her to the shuttle ; we're getting the hell out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked my fic so far please comment!~ I'll try to post a new chapter every week!


	4. Caught my eye

_Things always went as she wanted them to. This was unusual, irritatingly unusual. She wanted to punch a wall right now. But she couldn't. Why? She didn't know. It was all blurry. She was a mess. Spirits protect me, she prayed, please give me the strength to beat the shit out of these bastards again, and finally escape this hellhole._

**CAUGHT MY EYE**  

 _Pain_.

A stinging, sizzling pain would send waves of electricity through her spine. It did not feel like she was paralyzed, but rather, like she was ready to jump up in the air and make a _mess_ out of everything around her. _Sudden hyperactivity_. This wasn't something uncommon to her ; but here, the need was even more... _prominent_. She batted her eyelashes rapidly. Her vision was bleary, and unfocused. She was lying on something hard and cold, like a... bathroom floor or something? She couldn't tell.

A pained grumble escaped her plated lips. Once more she tried to open her eyes, moving to sit up on the strange, cold surface.

“No moving. Bad for the bandages **.”** A sharp voice sermonized her, making her start with surprise.

What in all the galaxy was _that_? Swiftly, the Turian turned her head, desperately trying to wake herself up from her numbness. She was still on the ship. She wasn't alone. Someone was talking to her. Who? What did they want? Were they one of those _asshole mercs_ from earlier? Phoebe grunted, trying to wave her arms around to use her biotic abilities. A small, shiny blue light sparkled from the tip of her fingers, making a low-pitched sound, and she heard something clinging around, probably in reaction to the use of her biotics.

“Stop.” The strange voice commanded again.

“Gnnhmr- gh...” Phoebe tried to reply, but only managed to mutter a few inaudible sounds.

Steps. Walking towards her. Suddenly, a sharp pain tingled her shoulder. A _needle_. One last attempt at sitting up. No luck again. Pitch black.

 _Gone_.

* * *

 

_Ouch. Again._

It seemed the pain had partially gone away. Her spine seemed to be fine again, and she was able to move her arms. And her eyes. Her vision wasn't blurry anymore.

“Hmpf!” The Turian rumbled, managing to open her eyes fully this time.

Immediately, she got blinded by a vivid white light. _Ouch_. And again. What was it? Last thing she remembered, she had punched a hole through this guy's head and then, nothing. But she could clearly see the pilot's cabin in her mind, and it was _pitch black_. No light. Nothing. The ship was on the verge of crashing. If only this bastard hadn't shot her...

...But what about _those_ gun wounds, by the way? Phoebe wiggled around, turning her head towards her shoulder. Once her vision became a little clearer, she could see... _bandages_. Lots of them, circling around her shoulder and armpit, and going down to her forearm. Well well. Either one of those dickheads was a medic and had decided to play the kindness card with her, either... she wasn't on the Blue Suns ship anymore. Which seemed, strangely, more probable now.

Her eyes kept scouting her surroundings. No, she was definitely _not_ on the ship anymore. She was seemingly sitting on a chair in some sort of... hospital bay or something. There were other chairs like this one, all of them were empty though.

But her inspection of the room was abruptly cut short, again.

“Ah. Awake. Good.”

That voice... Oh, snap, she remembered it now. It was that voice who made her shut up before she fell unconscious again. Shit. The Turian tensed up, clenching her fists, ready to get into a fight again. It wasn't a bunch of antibiotics and painkillers that were going to make her _weak_.

But as she turned her head to her left... She could see it wasn't a Blue Suns merc.

It wasn't a human either, nor a soldier, apparently.

It was a _Salarian_.

“Checking blood pressure.” The Salarian commented, not even looking at her but at a floating screen. “ _Good_.” He said again, typing on the screen.

What in the seven layers of the spirits' world was _that_.

Who the hell was he even? A Salarian, really? This guy wasn't a merc - or at least she thought, seeing as his attire was pretty casual and didn't sport any popular merc company's logo or insignia. A doctor, probably, or a scientist, for all she knew. They didn't have those guys on Invictus. You got a boo-boo? You go to the local pseudo-assigned medic and you get it stitched for half the normal price. Of course, the more you pay, the better you get treated.

But, anyway. _Better be safe than sorry._ No more monologuing chit-chat for this big guy. Phoebe extended her fingers, ready to stand up and throw a mass-effect field at him ; but... something prevented her from even moving her wrists.

 _Handcuffs_.

 _Fuck_.

“You gotta be kiddin' me!” She bursted loudly, shaking herself around angrily, trying to break the handcuffs. But she couldn't. Those pieces of shit were tight around her wrists and chained directly to the chair.

The sudden exclamation finally made the Salarian guy turn around to face her. He was tall - really tall, but probably on the average for a guy of his species. He had clear, tan-orange skin and big eyes. Those things were black and shiny and looked like two black holes had been glued to his face.

She hadn't seen many Salarians in her life. She had heard many things about them, none of which she believed was true, though. This guy had a strangely comforting look in his big eyes, and, overall... didn't _seem_ to want her any harm.

After a few seconds of awkwardly exchanging stares with him, Phoebe stopped shaking her arms and coughed, looking quite sulky, like a child caught trying to climb up on the counter to steal the cookie jar. The Salarian guy didn't seem any perturbed by her attitude, and walked towards her with quiet but rapid steps.

“Feeling better? Are the wounds itching? The wounds always itch. Bandages too tight? No, can't be. Blood pressure is fine. Pulse normal. Everything's good. Something else?” He spurted a flow of words, in the fastest and most incomprehensible way possible, grabbing a datapad on a nearby table.

Phoebe frowned, still unsure of what she was supposed to feel right now. She had no idea where she was and who this guy was. But he was a weirdo, that was for sure. “...Who are _you_?” She managed to reply, still frowning and looking completely taken aback.

“Mordin?” Another voice called from outside of the medical bay. Phoebe turned her head towards the glass windows, and saw a feminine figure coming by.

The door slided open, silent steps announcing the entry of a new _weird ass stranger_. This one wasn't Salarian. Long legs, sharp cheekbones and bulging biceps, shaved skull, dark skin ; it was a human, and oh boy. Wasn't that a surprise, a sight of _wonder_ and rarity to Phoebe. It was merely _impossible_ to cross one of those things on Invictus. Most of the population were Turians, though they also had Batarians and Vorcha. Salarians and Asari were more rare, and humans were mostly _inexistent_. This one was tall and arbored typically _feminine_ qualities, such as ; breasts, curves, and large hips. To her standards, she was ugly, boring and _weird_ , but it was probably because she wasn't attracted to... humans, Asari, and other aliens like that. Those sack of fat on their chest made them look like they had a nutsack tapped to their upper body. It was _gross_.

The newcomer approached so-called Mordin and his patient. “Ah, you're awake.” She commented, resting a hand on her hips. “You've been sleeping for two days straight.”

“Who are you?!” Phoebe asked again, this time to both 'Mordin' and the human female. “And where am I?”

“Commander Shepard, of... the Alliance Navy. This is professor Solus.” The female replied, nodding her head towards Mordin. “And you are on the SSV Normandy. We found you on a Blue Suns ship the other day. You were one hell of a mess.”

The Alliance navy... Oh, spirits. They weren't affiliated with the Blue Suns, that was for sure. Now she was feeling slightly better - but one thing remained. The damn handcuffs.

She tilted her head, looking at the shackles around her wrists, and making them tingle a little. “You think I _work_ for the Blue Suns maybe?” That was the only logical explanation here. Beside, how did the Alliance even found this Blue Suns ship in the first place? And why did they decide to board it?

“No.” Shepard replied, crossing her arms. “You don't work for them. Else you wouldn't have killed them all in cold-blood.”

Oh, shit. How did they _know_ that too?!

“...I was their prisoner. _They_ started it!” Phoebe roared, moving her arms nervously.

“Gunshot wound. Internal bleeding. Concussions. Yet you killed them all. Impressive.” The Salarian professor commented.

“Thanks, nerd-face. I didn't have much of a choice anyway. It was me or them. Now remove those fucking handcuffs. My wrists are _itching_ me _._ ”

Shepard blinked a few times, switching her pose and resting on her other leg. She had a very serious and dour face, but gentle, green eyes. It was rather _disconcerting_. “And what tells me you aren't even more dangerous than the Blue Suns mercs? It isn't everyday that we meet someone who can kill a _whole_ ship crew and only get shot twice in return.” Her emerald pupils were staring right into Phoebe's tiny, glowing eyes. “ _Why_ were you captured by them?”

Now they were asking the real questions.

What what she supposed to reply? That she had a deal with those dickbags and didn't pay her deeds? That they captured her like a vulgar amateur when she was on a perfectly _peaceful_ \- for once - visit on Tuchanka? That was too much for her huge ego. But she couldn't lie either. She had been to the Purgatory way too often in her youth, and she didn't want those Alliance suckers to take her back there.

“Had business with them, didn't respect their stupid rules. 'Been months but they didn't forget. They outnumbered me and captured me. Those dumb bastards didn't have a single biotic in their whole crew. It was a damn _pleasure_ taking them all down.” The Turian explained in a rather reluctant tone ; her eyes shifted to stare at Mordin's tall figure, and she found herself surprisingly waiting for his reaction. This guy was a weirdo. But he was less of a weirdo than the _Alliance sheep_ standing next to him. She _wanted_ him to say something.

 _He did._ Under the form of a half-suppressed smirk, hidden behind his three-digited hand.

“Mordin, stay here. I'm going to go get Zaeed ; see if he has anything useful to add to this.”

They didn't trust her one bit. _Good_.

Now she was stuck in here with the nerd.

_Another nice day ahead._

 


End file.
